Tales of the Dissolutionverse Box Set

by William C. Tracy

  And what is it that feels wrong about this situation?

  “What if the Society is revealed?” I asked Moortlin. “The geas will make us look guiltier if we cannot defend ourselves in court. Would the Council even let us rejoin the rest of the maji?” I tried to think of what raw material and equipment I had used. How much had we stolen? From where? At least I had not done experimentation on live subjects.

  Councilor Moortlin regarded me for a moment, their eyes dulling, deep in thought. Maybe all the secrecy was based on their paranoia. Maybe losing the list was not so bad.

  Don’t delude yourself.

  “This one has been with the Society for less than a cycle, Mandamon,” Moortlin finally said. “One rarely shares the Society’s secrets for, hm, many cycles more, but with this development, one judges it necessary for this one to know more of this group’s, hm, history. These ones can spare a few minutes while Aegrino cleans up the Speaker’s office—even with other pressing matters.”

  The Benish creaked, shifting from one gnarled foot the other, as if still unsure whether to let any more information go. Then they reached for the doorknob with a sound of snapping branches. As I followed them back into the corridor, I heard the pop of a portal opening. Aegrino was on his way.

  “Does this one know how old one is?” Moortlin asked as we walked down the Society’s halls.

  I frowned, thrown by the question. I knew the Benish were long-lived beings, perhaps the longest lived of the ten species of the Assembly. They were secretive about how their kind reproduced and how their parents—progenitors—taught them.

  How will this help me find the list?

  “I do not, Councilor,” I answered.

  “One is nearing the three hundred and seventy second cycle of existence,” Moortlin said. I must have stopped, because they did too, half-turning in my direction.

  “It is long even for one’s people.” They brushed a flake of skin from their arm, revealing a lighter surface underneath—the Benish had a dense, hard flesh, more like aged wood than muscle and meat. “But one’s time has been, hm, busy, keeping the Society a secret from the Assembly while promoting new technology and social change. Otherwise beings would live shorter, uglier lives.”

  They took a rasping step forward and I followed. “One has watched this one’s progress for many cycles, even before this one’s, hm, second house emerged. It was such a tragedy to hear of this one’s mentor, and family—” They broke off abruptly as I stiffened. It was still a tender subject. “—but, hm, leaving that aside, this one’s inventions were what first attracted one’s attention.”

  My second house—Healing, like Moortlin—was only beginning to show when the Benish contacted me, a few days after the accident, my wounds still fresh. I had recently passed my test to graduate from apprentice to majus, and was flattered one of the Council thought so well of me. I’d assumed such a catastrophe would doom my chances of amounting to anything in the ranks of the maji.

  However, the councilor urged me to downplay my second house so others would forget. They offered tips and training, helping me find my strengths in the House of Healing. Those ran to inert organic materials, and despite the name, actual healing was an effort for me.

  We reached Moortlin’s study and entered. The councilor glanced both ways down the hallway before shutting and locking the door.

  “This one’s inventions are the talk of the Society,” Moortlin continued. I made some feeble protest, my mind straying to the cooling form of Speaker Thurapo, but the Benish spread a thick hand out in negation. “No, there is no reason for, hm, false modesty. This one will be a force in the maji for cycles to come.”

  Flattering, but how does this help me find the list? Yet Moortlin continued, as if we had all the time in the Nether.

  “Mark these words. This one’s work on replicating a picture over long distances was perhaps ahead of its time, but focusing harmonic resonances into physical form and recording changes to Systems can surely, hm, be used in a cycle or two, once the issues are resolved. Finally, there are the System Beasts.”

  “Those still need fine tuning, before the big presentation to the Assembly,” I objected, “and really, it is a combined effort with Gompt and Kratitha. They have each done at least as much as I on the project, if not more.” However I was proud of the automatons. They could be incredibly helpful assistants, once they were approved for sale.

  “Yet the original idea was this one’s.” Moortlin gently poked me in the chest with one thick finger. “Such ingenuity is important to encourage and develop, and the Society is the best place to, hm, do so.”

  I stared at Moortlin, realizing the Benish was much more worried than I had previously thought.

  “This one asked about the repercussions of the Society becoming widely known. One has witnessed this firsthand,” Moortlin said. “In the past, the Society was shut down and its members prosecuted.”

  My face must have reflected my astonishment. I pushed my glasses back up my nose. “Shut down? When? How? What happened to the two-house maji?” I smoothed my beard as my stomach tried to turn a flip. “It can’t have been recently. Majus I’Ban’s work with visual communication was made public ten cycles ago, and Majus’ Juut, Thinker’s work with pistols was twenty cycles before that.”

  “Precisely the issue,” Moortlin answered. “This one has lived in a privileged time for the, hm, Society. One has kept our members safe, with plenty of resources. Everyone knows the maji provide new scientific advancement, and, hm, no longer question how such technological leaps arise. The Society becomes complacent.” Moortlin’s eyes flickered and they stumped to their desk, rooting through a stack of papers nearly the height of their head. Their motions were sharp, like twigs popping in a fire.

  They’re…furious. I’d never seen the Benish truly angry. They shoved papers aside as they searched, quicker than I’d ever seen them move. The controlled power of their movements frightened me more than their revelation of the prosecution of Society members.

  Moortlin pulled a sheaf of papers out, cocked their head, and put them aside. “When one was very young—perhaps, hm, 630 A.A.W.—one was apprenticeship, ready to become a majus.” They pulled aside another section of the stack. “The Society then was run by Councilor Fortilath, head of the House of Communication, though that was, hm, not revealed until several cycles after the Society was shuttered. The geas was not in effect, then.”

  That’s over three hundred and twenty cycles ago!

  “Did one of the members let the secret out?” I asked.

  Moortlin shook their head and thrust a sheaf of paper at me—very old, and with writing scribbled in the margins.

  Society of war maji shut down!

  It has come to the attention of the Assembly of Species, the Council of the Maji, and the Effature, that the clan of maji named the ‘Society of Two Houses’ has been practicing forbidden energies of war, for the express purpose of fomenting outrage and rebellion within the eight homeworlds of the Great Assembly. Not since the Aridori war of old has such an affront to the sovereignty of the Assembly been perpetrated. These maji, even more powerful in their sound magics than the rest of the maji, have used live subjects to research ways to incapacitate armies, reduce buildings to rubble, and connect portals in tandem in order to transit from homeworld to homeworld in the blink of an eye! Fortunately, the suspected maji were discovered by a group of Kirian private agents before any further damage was done. Several have been sent to Gloomlight Prison, and their place of work torn down.

  I handed the page back with a frown.

  “The facts are distorted,” Moortlin said, their eyes’ intense glow dimming along with their anger. “The Society was, hm, researching defenses against inter-homeworld conflict, brought on by hostilities between the Etanela and the Festuour over trading rights for a type of, hm, luxury fabric.”

  “The methods for discovering defenses required, hm, volunteers from the war to test sa
id defenses. Councilor Fortilath was caught on the battlefield by that one’s own people. The public feared the Society would, hm, pull down their homes and take them as test subjects. Completely unfounded, as the two-house maji were, hm, trying to protect others.”

  “We’re not in a war now,” I said. “People would act differently.”

  “And what would they say if information was shared about this one’s, hm, device focusing sonic energy?” Moortlin asked.

  Is that a threat? Or merely to remind me I’m complicit as well? As if I needed another reminder.

  “After the accident, I stopped working on sonics immediately,” I said, then swallowed. My hands were in fists at my sides. I clenched them to keep from touching the scar on my face. The accident was not my fault. It wasn’t. I’d spent the last two cycles wrestling with myself over it. I thought I had gotten rid of these feelings of guilt, but Moortlin’s casual reference brought them back full-fold.

  “That is of little import.” Moortlin gestured back to the pile of papers with one hand. “The Society of Two Houses has formed, and, hm, been destroyed, at least four separate times since the Aridori war. Possibly more. Each time, fifty or sixty cycles must pass before the Assembly and the Council forgets the ‘danger’ and the Society can reform. Always, much knowledge is lost—knowledge that, hm, should be used to help the species of the Great Assembly.”

  Moortlin paced the room, creaking like branches in a storm. “This is why a member of the Society—the head, preferably—is also a member of the Council of the Maji, by election or, hm, trickery. One has been on the Council twice over the course of one’s life.” Moortlin looked at me. “One will do whatever is necessary to keep the Society from the notice of the other maji.”

  What is Moortlin capable of? The Benish had lived a long time and was crafty. Could this all be a sham? Could Moortlin themself have killed the Speaker and taken the list? Then why go through this ruse of alerting Aegrino? Were they that paranoid?

  I shook my head. I’d worked with them closely for two cycles, and my instincts said Moortlin couldn’t be involved.

  “What if we brought the matter to the Effature privately?” I asked. “He’s a reasonable man—he would surely see our side.”

  Moortlin laughed—a mirthless bark. He gestured to me. “This one is still young. One has known the Nether’s caretaker far longer, enough to know the Effature is, hm…chameleonic, changing with the times.” Moortlin paused, then cocked their head again. “Nevertheless, it would not help. The Effature is under the same geas as the Society.”

  I goggled. “The Effature knows?” The self-styled caretaker of the Nether influenced much of the finance, business, and lawmaking between the Imperium and the other cities in the Nether. He presided over the Great Assembly, though only rarely lent his voice to the debate.

  “A directive from the post of the Effature originally began the Society,” Moortlin said. “Has this one heard of maji born to three houses?”

  My face certainly showed my confusion. That was a night-tale, told by nursemaids to children.

  “It is no made up story. The Society keeps records on such rare, hm, cases.” Moortlin turned to another corner of their desk, where a neat stack of papers sat under an enormous volume of plant species native to the Nether. “They are very, very rare. Rarer than, hm, two-house maji are to one-house maji. Those who are born show symptoms immediately, so in tune with the Symphony are they. None with the potential ever survived past two cycles of age, in any records one has discovered,” their pupil-less eyes fixed me in place, “and which one has concealed from the Council.” They patted the volume of botany protectively. “The overload of so much of the Symphony causes madness, and eventually death. This one knows the, hm, instability of some of the two-house members.”

  I hesitated, then nodded. Living in the mansion afforded an easy opportunity to see that many two-house maji were eccentric at best. Moortlin’s paranoia was a prime example. Many of us, myself included, sometimes struggled to connect with others.

  “The original directive was for those with two houses to protect against the potential threat of those with access to three houses,” Moortlin said.

  “That makes no sense,” I said. “If none with the ability to hear three Symphonies live to use such abilities, then why is it a problem?” I tried to imagine hearing three of the aspects of the Grand Symphony. The combinations multiplied exponentially. They could change half the music of the universe at will.

  “One sees the risk is understood,” Moortlin said. “No such beings live here, but what if another civilization were to find the Nether, as the Lobhl did a few cycles ago? What if they have, hm, a militarized maji corps, and have harnessed those with three houses? The Great Assembly frowns on martial use of the Symphony. And so, the Society must guard against such an incursion. This group’s other inventions are a fortunate offshoot of the core directive.”

  What other subjects were researched behind closed doors, and what forbidden resources did they use, even past those practices I had already discovered? I had been caught up in the rush of new scientific study, and meeting Gompt and Kratitha—realizing there were others like me who yearned for more knowledge than available within the Great Assembly of Species. No doubt it was precisely what Moortlin intended, to keep new members busy.

  They crossed close enough I could smell the musty resin of their flesh. “There are much worse things out there, hm, in the wide universe,” the Benish said. “Which ones are to say the next species contacting the Nether will be benevolent?” They shook their head and I winced at the crackling sound. “The Society of Two Houses is necessary as a first, but, hm, secret line of defense against the unknowns of the universe. It cannot be shut down without great loss of knowledge. It leaves the Great Assembly undefended until its resurrection.”

  They turned away, making their stiff-legged stride across their study, pacing once more. “This one is the Investigator one most trusts, though this one is new to the Society.”

  Moortlin stopped before me. “One is known far too well in the Assembly. One’s placement on the Council of the Maji means one’s moves are, hm, tracked closer than one would like.”

  They took in a deep breath, their chest creaking with the effort. “Mandamon, investigate this missing list of Society members. While Aegrino, hm, cleans up the murder, this one must find who took the list as quickly as this one can. Keep the Society alive.”

  “What about the System Beast project?” I protested.

  Moortlin raised their hands to stop me. “It will wait a few days if needed. There is no other choice. Include this one’s colleagues, but this is, hm, not to go farther that this group’s small circle.”

  They breathed out, a gust of exhalation like the groan of a great tree. “One must return to Aben soon. The time to find a group to plant with is coming. One’s memories will be passed down to the next generation of Benish, but one’s work with the Society?” Their eyes dimmed. “It must remain with the two-house maji. This one—” they poked my chest again, “—is the best choice. Solve this mystery and keep the Society active for another hundred cycles.”

  I rocked back at the enormity of the task Moortlin had just entrusted me with. Surely there are others better suited?

  “I will figure out who took the list, Moortlin,” I said. I clenched my hands, pushing away memories of my first mentor, now dead. If the Society was closed down, I had nowhere else to go—my own actions had guaranteed that.

  PART TWO

  The Mansion

  - The Society, it has been my home for over forty cycles, accepting me when the maji ridiculed my ideas about the new chemical substances I have devised. Altering the chemicals the brain produces can be dangerous, yes, but could also prove invaluable to help those with social and behavioral differences such as myself. The other two-house maji, they helped push my discoveries into the main body of majus work, but I fear my ideas will never be fully utilized without bac
king from the Council, and that would require revelation of my situation in the Society.

  Personal Journal of Tethan, Sathssn majus of the Houses of Strength and Power, titled “Overwhelm.”

  Thoughts of undiscovered species of martial beings with maji in chains followed me as I walked down the corridors of the mansion in Poler. Moortlin was paranoid, but I suspected they were also correct to worry about the fate of the Society. They could not have been involved in the murder—not with such passion for two-house maji, and for so many cycles. The original Society even had a blessing from the Effature at the time, hundreds of cycles ago.

  I thought back on my twenty-and-six cycles in the Nether. Moortlin had lived for nearly fifteen times that long. What secrets would the Benish take with them when they returned to their homeworld?

  My feet led me to the lower floors of the mansion. As I had not designed my inventions alone, so I could not solve this mystery alone. I had not met many Society members—by nature, we were secretive and antisocial—but the two I worked with were skilled, intelligent, and I trusted them. Their fortunes were bound up in the success of the System Beast project, which was threatened by Speaker Thurapo’s death. Maybe the others could help me discover who killed him, and who had the list of Society names.

  I could hear Gompt and Kratitha arguing before I entered the laboratory. I couldn’t leave those two alone for even one lightening of the Nether’s walls before they were off again, debating the best method of calculating efficiency. They shared the ability to hear the Symphony of Grace, and both had opinions on the best way to reduce the effort required to power the System Beasts.

  We shared a spacious area in the Society mansion, cluttered by the results of our work. Kratitha was the worst, for she flitted from project to project even faster than she spoke. Gompt was slower, more deliberate, but she was as young as the rest of us, and still prone to flights of fancy. I preferred to at least get a prototype working before I moved to a new project, but I was certainly guilty of abandoning my share.